


when i'm with you, i'm at home

by aly_raena



Category: Twosetviolin, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Boys Kissing, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, brett yang pines, but implied - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:28:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28975875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aly_raena/pseuds/aly_raena
Summary: brett misses eddy, so he cuddles the pillow with eddy's face.
Relationships: Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Comments: 23
Kudos: 98





	when i'm with you, i'm at home

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [when i'm with you, i'm at home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29565540) by [MizuTranslates (koimizu)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/koimizu/pseuds/MizuTranslates)



> i had too much time and made this, i'm sorry
> 
> title taken from [home (feat. casey lee williams) by jeff williams](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zTUuhjo6aQE)

“This is going to your room,” he says, and for a while it does stay in the mountain of pillows Eddy keeps, placed on the very top after Eddy finishes making his bed, right side up, a dreadful thing to look at. Eddy sneaks it in Brett’s pile a few days after, thinking it wouldn’t be obvious since Brett’s collection of pillows rivals his own. But Brett does notice—he keeps track of everything ~~and everyone~~ in his bed, thank you—and he just stares at it consideringly for a while, holding it in his lap. Then he throws it in the back of his closet, and the Eddy Pillow is never seen again. 

Until it is.

Eddy isn’t home, he wouldn’t be for two more days, and Brett finds that he misses Eddy’s hugs and head pats, occasional hair ruffles and the casual touches he gives freely, and most importantly (yet most embarrassingly), Brett misses Eddy’s face. Just a bit. But enough to retrieve the cursed pillow from its hiding place, snuggle with it under the blankets while he opens a folder in his phone. Snapshots of their life in Singapore disguise the stolen pictures of Eddy in between, a deity haloed in rays of sunlight or moonlight. Brett browses through them, absently patting the pillow beside him, humming a tune centered on an A 440.

Shame may have coloured Brett’s cheeks and ears a flattering red, but he’s too lonely and cold and without-Eddy, so he soldiers on without second thought, scrolling down and down until he’s drowsy, falling asleep with Eddy’s gift under his chin, and a phone showing a photo of Eddy petting a puppy clutched in his hand. 

He wakes and the embarrassment is almost tangible; he panics and throws it as far as he can, only picking it up later in fear of anyone seeing it in his bedroom. He hides it again, swears to never take it out, and pretends absolutely nothing happened for the next two days until he believes it himself. 

It develops into a habit. Eddy goes away for a few days, Brett digs in his closet for the Eddy Pillow, carrying it into his bed and settling to watch movies until it lulls him to sleep, playing with the edges of the pillow and quietly singing the melody he had memorized for times like this. It never is a good substitute for Eddy’s absence, but it is a nice distraction. 

Eddy does find out one day, coming home early to surprise Brett, finding him tangled in his bed with the pillow underneath his head, drooling on Pillow Eddy’s cheek. It takes so much screaming, a disastrous pillow fight—Eddy too amused to dodge anything launched at him and Brett a shade of red so deep that Eddy worries and hastily approaches him leading to more screaming and flailing of limbs—and a well-timed tackle to land them both into bed to get the entire story out of Brett. 

Eddy laughs and laughs and laughs, nuzzling into Brett’s shoulder when the latter grumbles, placating the man with small kisses on his face before he’s forgiven. Then: “I love you,” Eddy says, kissing Brett’s nose. “You’re ridiculous.” His lips touch the corner of Brett’s mouth. “Still love you.” And finally kisses him well and proper. 

“I hate you,” Brett returns, a lie that both of them know. “But kiss me more.” 

**Author's Note:**

> catch me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/aly_raena)!


End file.
